


The Earth and All the Kingdoms Thereof

by MagnetoTheMagnificent



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angels, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Betrayal, Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Conflicted Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dancing in the Rain, Escape, Global Warming, Healing, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Internal Conflict, Lonely Crowley (Good Omens), Melancholy, Other, Outer Space, Plants, Post-Apocalypse, Rain, Rainbows, Revolution, Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Science Fiction, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Solitary Confinement, Spaceships, Storms, Technology, Wing Grooming, Wings, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent
Summary: Thousands of years into the future, the Earth is dying, and the angels have fled with the humans.Only one demon remains to try and make the Earth habitable again.(Alternate Universe inspired by Wall-E)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

The world had long ended. It didn't go out with a bang, there wasn't a nuclear war or any one big catastrophe. Like water on a rock, it was a gradual fracture until the world eroded completely. 

Heaven and Hell had no hand in the destruction. This end, this final end, was due to humanity alone. 

Both Sides had watched it happen, but they watched from the sidelines, unable, no, _unwilling_ to interfere. They watched as the humans dug up the trees, poisoned the waters, and clouded the air. They watched as the humans fought over their planet, unaware it was already too late. 

Eventually, the once beautiful Earth was reduced to a wasteland. Only once the destruction was complete did Heaven finally intervene. 

The surviving humans were whisked away in Heavenly spacecraft, set to drift among the galaxies until the Earth was habitable again. The angels left with the humans, banishing the demons of Hell to the dying planet. Hell was empty, and all its demons walked the Earth, tasked with rendering it habitable again. While the humans and angels basked in the luxury of top-grade celestial technology, the damned acted as the planetary janitors. It was futile- the Earth was far too polluted to be saved- but they had no other tasks. 

Without humans to tempt or cajole, the demons grew weak and powerless. Little by little, they slowly died off, from the mighty Satan to the smallest imp. 

Thousands of years passed, and the world hardly healed. Eventually only one small demon remained- kept alive by his persentance to bring the humans back. Back in the day, before the end of times, he wasn't an important demon. He wasn't even a local councillor, and if it weren't for his odd deposition, he would have gone unnoticed in the circles of the damned.   
The Earth was quiet and deathly, the angels and humans had fled, and only one small demon roamed the Earth. 

His name was Crowley.


	2. Chapter 2

Almost a lifetime before, Crowley had been the Serpent of Eden. Back then, he had been known as Crawly, but he detested that name. It reminded him too much of his serpentine nature.   
Crowley had caused the original Sin, but he wasn't malicious. He hadn't even intended to cause the humans to be banished from Eden. All he had done was what he was told to do, and he had been told to make some trouble.

He could have done worse- he knew he was capable of worse- but he couldn't see what was so bad about the humans knowing the difference between good and evil. After all, it would be no fun if the humans had no free will. They would be like robots- if robots had been invented then. 

The thing was, Crowley _liked_ the humans, and he liked the Earth, too. Humans were clever and complex- they could create worlds with just their mind and a pen. People, he found, were capable of so much good, and consequently, so much evil. They fascinated him, and they were far more compelling than his fellow demons, and certainly better than angels. 

Crowley hadn't encountered many angels since his Fall. Oh, of course there were the lone angel or two who smote him just because they felt particularly self-righteous that day, but Crowley didn't know any angels _personally._ He supposed a small part of him wanted to, perhaps a vague curiosity of what the other Side was like now. 

Now, there were no more angels, no more humans, even. They had all abandoned the Earth, and, his mind whispered, had abandoned _him_. He remembered watching the last spacecraft ascend into the heavens. It seemed a lifetime ago. 

There had been many demons then, and they had cheered when at last all the angels vacated the Earth. At last, Earth was Hell's to dominate. They could mould the new world into their own will.   
The first few years had been ecstacy. There had been cheer and revelry all the hours of the day and into the night. Sin and vice permeated the atmosphere, and one would say the world seemed almost Hellish. Crowley hadn't taken part in the festivities. Instead, he trod across the planet, searching in vain for a final sign of life- a sign the humans would return. He found nothing. 

As the years passed, the forces of Hell diminished, disillusioned by the absence of humans. After all, they fed off of corruption- but no one was left to corrupt. Crowley had watched as one-by-one, all of the demons died. They had no energy left, no will to live, and so they dissipated into the firmament.

Crowley was only too aware of his mortality.   
Still, he refused to die. He was all alone on the barren planet, but he clung to a dream. 

Quietly, he amassed a collection of human artifacts in an attempt to keep their memory alive. He collected shoes and glasses and ring boxes and firelighters, and cherished each trinket like a treasure. He restored films and tapes and replayed them over and over on his tiny television screen, and vowed not to let their memory disappear. They would return, he tried to convince himself, and he'd be ready when they did. 

When he wasn't foraging, Crowley cleaned. It was a futile attempt, but it was better than being left alone to his musings. He tried to make sense of the geography of trash and waste and ruin, and walked through labyrinths of human history. 

"This pile is from 2001," he'd say to himself, "and this is from 2018."

He talked to himself a lot lately. 

He also thought a lot, and thought until his head hurt. 

Sometimes, in the darkest nights, when he let his thoughts roam, he'd wonder if the humans would ever return. He wondered if they'd be as he remembered, and to his dismay, his memory was drifting away. 

The Golden Girls played on his cracked television. 

He'd never admit it out loud, but Crowley was lonely. It was a cold existence being the only demon- the only living thing left on Earth. 

On a hot day- most days had been hot in the past few centuries- Crowley rested in the shade of a looming tower of waste. It had been a long day of foraging, and Crowley, still a reptile, needed to rest. He was pensively studying a pile of dirt when he noticed a glint of green in the unforgiving sunlight. 

Logically, he _should_ have assumed it was a shard of plastic. The world was littered with shards of plastic. But Crowley, despite everything, despite all he had witnessed, was an optimist. 

He walked towards the green spark, and looked down. His breath caught in his throat. There, in the acrid soil, a verdant shoot of plant-matter grew stubbornly, its two leaves like glaring eyes, daring the world to object. 

"A plant," Crowley whispered, as if his words could knock the fragile thing down. 

With trembling hands, he dug up the tiny sprout and carefully replanted it in an old shoe. This was his hope.

He held it to his chest and felt his eyes grow moist. 

"Life," he murmured, gently touching the delicate leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley lovingly tended to the plant, which he had placed in his makeshift grotto. He hobbled together mirrors and other glass bits to harness the sunlight, which he used to boil the acid rain which fell regularly. It was meager, but he was able to keep the plant alive. 

Before everything went downhill, Crowley had the most luxurious houseplants in all of London. After a long day of temptations, he’d return to his flat and care for his houseplants, and instil fear deep within their veins. His plants were beautiful, but they were terrified, and Crowley knew it well. Deep down, so deep he barely knew it, Crowley didn’t want to hurt them. He didn’t like having to be cruel. He supposed, better to be vicious to plants than to people, but the subconscious guilt still gnawed at him. 

Now, there were no humans left to avoid, and no demonic superiors to be terrified of. All Crowley had left was his optimism, and his unshakable kindness. He poured it all into the plant. 

He was on top of his grotto, letting the plant drink in the sunlight, when he heard a low rumbling. The rumbling turned to tremors, which knocked over the plant, spilling soil all over his clothes. He hissed, and hurriedly cleaned all the dirt and returned it to the makeshift pot. Thankfully, the plant was unharmed. 

Crowley squinted at the horizon. It wasn’t sandstorm season, but that of course could change. However, there was no rolling cloud of dust to be seen. 

The shaking continued, and Crowley rushed inside his grotto to keep the plant safe. Once the precious sprout was secured, he ran outside to investigate. He watched with wide eyes as a small spacecraft descended from the heavens. The demon let out a hopeful gasp. Could it be?

He grabbed his cracked sunglasses from where they had sat gathering dust for centuries. Finally, finally, he had use for them. Finally, the humans were coming back. He took a final look in his old mirror, making sure he didn’t look too demonic. It wouldn’t do to scare the first humans away before they get a chance to explore their new home. 

There was a lightness in his step as he ran towards the spacecraft. It was like he was flying again. Closer, closer, he could taste the celestial metal on the tip of his tongue. His heart rattled against his chest from excitement.

Dust rippled across the ground as the ship touched down- heavenly steel touching cracked earth. Crowley hid behind a boulder.   
For a few long minutes, there was silence. Crowley held his unneeded breath. 

Then, the hatch slowly creaked open. Light flooded from within the spacecraft, and Crowley was glad he had thought to wear his shades. He could feel the holiness permeating from the ship- he hadn’t felt holiness since before the humans left. 

A single figure dropped out of the hatch, landing with a thump onto the hard ground. Crowley strained to see what it was, but it was concealed by massive wings. Great, Crowley thought. An angel.   
The figure stood, and seemed to speak to someone inside of the craft. Crowley shrank back. He and angels never really did get along. 

Then, with a powerful surge, the spacecraft began to lift off. Crowley realized they had left the angel. The angel watched as the craft became a tiny speck in the sky, and Crowley began to think of an escape. With cold dread, he realized the angel was looking right at his hiding spot. The angel was staring at his hiding spot and pointing a flaming sword in his direction. Crowley gulped. 

“Show yourself,” the angel commanded. 

When Crowley didn’t emerge from his spot, the angel struck the boulder with a blast of heavenly fire. The demon jumped back, letting out his wings reflexively. He fell onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust, and getting particles in his eyes and lungs. 

The angel stalked closer, and Crowley could see the glow in his marbled eyes. He flattened himself on the ground, certain that this was the end. 

The angel loomed over him. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

Crowley startled. 

“Huh?” he gaped. 

Heaven wasn't known to ask questions first and then shoot. Well, in this case 'stab'. Crowley had figured out early on that one of the main similarities between Heaven and Hell was the tendancy to strike first, ask questions later. 

“I said, who are you?” the angel repeated sternly. 

Crowley coughed, and tried to compose himself. He had expected to be killed. 

“Anthony J. Crowley,” he answered hoarsely. 

"You're a demon."

Crowley swallowed, and nodded slowly. 

"I was told you all should have died by now," the angel muttered to himself. 

He looked around, seemingly on edge. 

"I'm- I'm the only one left," Crowley admitted before clamping his mouth shut. 

He mentally scolded himself for revealing that information. Now the angel knew he was defenseless. 

Something seemed to stir behind the angel's stoic gaze. Sympathy? Pity? Relief? He let out a long-held breath. 

"It's just you on this entire planet?" he asked. 

Crowley nodded again. 

"Well, I suppose you can't be much of a threat, then." 

Had he had a shred of dignity left, Crowley would have protested that he could hold his own in battle. However, Crowley had given up on dignity centuries before. 

Crowley looked up tentatively, the relative relief offering him a chance to study the angel. He was wearing a sharp white uniform, with shiny metallic embellishments and clasps. His wings were broad and rosy, not impeccably groomed but strong and suited for flight and battle. Crowley suddenly felt self conscious about his own ragged clothing and damaged wings. 

"Are you going to get up?" the angel asked. 

Crowley stirred and scrambled to his feet. It would be best if he left the angel alone.   
"Sssorry, I'll get out of your hair," he mumbled. 

He shuffled away, and winched his wings back into the celestial plane.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley perched atop a pile of rubbish. The angel was pottering around the ground, seemingly looking for something. He had been at work for the past two days, and Crowley was curious. Once he had realized he wouldn't hurt him, Crowley tentatively began to try and decipher the enigma that was the angel.

"You know, it's rude to spy on people," the angel remarked primly, with his back turned to him.

Crowley ducked his head guiltily. 

"Wasn't spying," he called down. 

Now the angel turned and looked up at him. He narrowed his eyes. 

"If you say so," he said simply. 

Crowley huffed. 

"What's an angel like you doing here, anyway?" he asked. 

At that the angel frowned. 

"I can't make conversation with you all the way up there, you know," he replied testily. 

Crowley scrambled down the rubbish heap and dusted himself off. 

"Sorry, I usually keep my distance around angels," he said dryly. 

"Ditto," the angel chuckled, actually _chuckled._

Crowley was intrigued. 

"Well, if you won't tell me why you're here, at least tell me who you are. You aren't here to kill me, I'm assuming." 

"No," the angel answered, "I wasn't given orders to kill you, although I suppose I would have, had my superiors known you exist." 

"I suppose you're rather lucky then," he smiled. 

Crowley would have been intimidated had the comment been said by anyone else. But this angel didn't say it as a threat, only a genuine observation. He tried a different route. 

"How long are you going to stay?" 

The angel raised a white brow. 

"As if I'm a houseguest and this planet's your house?" 

Crowley shrugged. 

"Considering I've been the lone custodian of the Earth for the past few centuries, it's a bit of a valid question," he muttered. 

"I suppose." 

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. 

"Well, considering the current circumstances, I presume I shall be staying for quite some time," the angel said cryptically. 

Crowley misread his tone as disgust. 

"It used to be beautiful here, you know," he mumbled. 

"Yes, I know." 

"There used to be cities, and forests, and jusssttt-" 

He stopped, his tongue flickering out in alert. 

"What on Earth are you-"

Crowley stopped him, and nearly grabbed his hand. 

"We have to go. Now," he said, standing on his tip-toes to see the horizon. 

The angel reached for his sword.

"No! Wait!" Crowley hissed urgently. 

He could feel the vibrations of the incoming storm. 

"What are you playing at?" 

"There'ssss a dusssttt storm, you ssstupid angel," Crowley growled, and pulled his hand. 

The angel turned his head, and they both gaped at the looming tower of debris and sand and dust. 

"Come on!" 

Crowley opened his wings and shielded himself, motioning for the angel to do the same. He gripped his hand, and they trudged through the howling wind. They made it in the grotto just as the storm slammed down onto the earth with shattering force. 

For a long time they just stood in the dark cavern, breathing heavily. 

"That was-" the angel began breathlessly.

"Just your everyday experience," Crowley grunted, and began grooming his wings. 

Scales had erupted across his skin, and he was far past just a little bit shaken.

"You're a serpent," the angel commented. 

"What gave that away?" Crowley asked sarcastically, spitting out stray feathers. 

"I'm sorry. I haven't been very polite, have I?"

Crowley grunted in acknowledgement, his mouth preoccupied with righting a damaged barb. 

The angel held out his hand. 

"I'm Aziraphale, by the way. Former Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden," he said awkwardly. 

Crowley nearly choked on a bit of fuzz. 

"Eden, you say?" he coughed. 

Aziraphale nodded. 

"Wait," he said slowly, pursing his lips. 

"You're the Serpent of Eden, aren't you?" 

"Ngk," Crowley confirmed sheepishly.

"And you've been on Earth this whole time?!" 

"Erm….n'yeah?" 

"Right," Aziraphale said slowly.

"Aren'tcha gonna fix your wings?" asked Crowley, gesturing with his free hand. 

Aziraphale glanced dubiously at his wings, which certainly were in disarray. He began to delicately comb through his feathers, plucking out bits of dirt and grime. Unlike demons, who groomed their wings the proper way, angels were less blunt. Dignity, Aziraphale had called it. 

"You're never gonna get them right if you don't use your mouth," Crowley told him.

"I don't want to get dirt in my mouth," Aziraphale sniffed. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

"'S the way God intended," he reminded him. 

"It's uncouth," 

"Suit yourself." 

Aziraphale looked around the grotto. Mismatched shelves were lined with human artifacts. There were commemorative memorabilia, miniature statues, and all sorts of knickknacks. In particular he recognized various cassette tapes, either damaged or in pristine condition. 

"You like them?" Crowley asked from behind him. 

"It's like a museum," he murmured. 

"More like a memorial," Crowley mumbled. 

Aziraphale noticed a shelf of old books. He walked closer, and recognized familiar titles. The Unrzghteous Bible, the Wicked Bible, the Discharge Bible…..

He let out a small gasp. 

"Funny, aren't they?" Crowley quipped. 

"Yes," Aziraphale croaked, touching the Buggre All This Bible with a trembling finger. 

"Found them in the ruins of a bookshop in London. Saved as many as I could. They're pretty blasphemous, if you know what I mean," the demon explained proudly. 

"I haven't seen these in…..thousands of years," Aziraphale sighed, nearly tearing up. 

"Sorry?" 

"My dear, these Bibles...that bookshop, are- _were_ mine." 

Crowley bit his lip. 

"Suppose it's a stroke of luck, then," he said slowly. 

"Don't wanna go stealing things, y'know. 'Specially not from an angel." 

"May I- may I read them?" Aziraphale asked quietly. 

"They're, uh, yours, angel. Read as you please," Crowley replied gently. 

He poked out his tongue and tasted the air. 

"Storm's let up, angel," he announced. 

"So, uh, if you want to get on with whatever it is you've been assigned, it's, err, safe to go out. If you want." 

Aziraphale glanced outside the mouth of the cave and back at the Bibles. 

"Right. I suppose I really should be going," he said reluctantly. 

"I think I'll be back, though," he added, looking behind his shoulder as he left. 

"Ciao," Crowley said awkwardly, but Aziraphale had already exited the grotto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that demons groom their wings with their mouths (like birds),which is why canonically their wings are better groomed than angels, who only use their hands, and are unable to really get the job done.


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley watched as Aziraphale read through one of his Bibles. He seemed completely engrossed in his reading, utterly unaware of the world around him. Occasionally he’d let out a tiny chuckle, or a happy hum. Most of the time he’d be completely motionless except for the deft hand periodically turning the pages. It made Crowley feel at peace seeing how content he was. 

They didn’t talk much, but Crowley had told Aziraphale he could stop by and read whenever he wanted, and Aziraphale did. Sometimes Crowley would hardly know he was there- he would enter the grotto, pick a book, and sit cross-legged on the dusty ground to read. It was a silent understanding that they had, an arrangement, almost. Crowley didn't interfere with whatever Aziraphale's mission was, and Aziraphale in turn didn't kill him. But no arrangement could satisfy Crowley's curiousity. 

“Were you an Earthbound angel?” Crowley asked one day. 

Aziraphale blinked, and Crowley immediately realized he had hit a sore subject. 

“I suppose I was, yes.”

“I take it you liked Earth?” 

“I did, yes,” Aziraphale replied quietly. 

"Became quite attached if I'm to be honest." 

"I know what you mean," Crowley sighed sympathetically. 

"Miss them, you know?" 

"But wasn't _your_ Side responsible for the End?" Aziraphale retorted. 

Crowley grimaced, and shook his head. 

"I used to think it was _your_ Side, angel," he said. 

"Why, I-" Aziraphale began to protest indignantly.

"Don't anymore. Don't think either of our Sides are responsible." 

They shared a mournful look. 

"Why'd they send you here, anyway?" 

Aziraphale looked down. 

"I'm afraid that's classified, dear boy," he answered.

"I mean, it's not that I don't enjoy your company-" 

"You enjoy my company?" Aziraphale asked softly. 

"Erm, yeah, ngk, you know…." he stammered.

"'S jussst been me for so long. 'S nice to talk to…..someone." 

"I never thought demons could get lonely," Aziraphale remarked. 

"Well," Crowley tried explaining, "angels get lonely, don't they?" 

At that Aziraphale look pensive, and stared off at a corner of the cavern. 

"Yes," he murmured, "they can." 

"So we're of the same stock. We can feel the same things your lot can." 

"I just suppose companionship seems such a human idea," the angel added. 

"Spend enough time around 'em, they start to rub off on you," Crowley reminded him. 

"Yes. They do have a way of influencing," Aziraphale agreed. 

"I'd use the word 'inspire.'" 

"Yes." 

Aziraphale looked wistful, and Crowley shifted uncomfortably where he was sitting. He hadn't meant to make Aziraphale upset. 

Then, he had an idea.

"Can I show you something?" he asked tentatively.

Aziraphale shot him a quizzical look. 

"I- well, maybe this will give you hope, you know, that this place will be habitable again. And then they'll come back," Crowley explained. 

"I don't understand-"

Crowley hesitantly took his hand. Aziraphale's eyes widened, but he let him lead him to the farthest and deepest part of his cave, where a crack in the roof let in a steady ribbon of sunlight. Basking in the light was an old boot filled with soil, and a tiny, tender plant was drinking in the sun. Aziraphale gasped. 

"You- this is actually alive," he said unbelievingly.

"Yeah," Crowley said proudly.

"Just needed someone to take care of it." 

Aziraphale gripped Crowley's shoulder with a shaking hand.

"Oh, Crowley, do you realize what this means?" he murmured softly. 

"Yeah. The humans can come back. With the humans taking care of the Earth again, there'll be more plants, and-"

Aziraphale put a finger to Crowley's lips. 

"I'm sorry, my dear," he whispered, and pressed a kiss to Crowley's forehead. 

"What're you-"

Crowley collapsed into his arms, unconscious. 

Tears welled up in Aziraphale's eyes as he pressed his communication alert on his suit. He had grown to like the strange demon over the months since he met him. But he couldn't disobey a direct order. 

He laid Crowley on the ground and approached the plant. Carefully, he picked it up and placed it in the airtight container he kept on his belt. The clasp chirped, registering the presence of organic material. 

"Aziraphale," came Haniel's voice over the communicator. 

"What did you find?" 

"I found a- a plant. Alive, sir," Aziraphale answered uneasily. 

His gut twisted with an awful feeling of guilt. He felt like he was somehow committing a terrible crime.

"Are you sure?" Haniel asked. 

"Yes, I'm positive. It's small, but it's living."

He sent him the biological makeup of the plant through his transmitter.

"Excellent work, Aziraphale," Haniel said when he received them.

"I'll call for a return vessel, and you can return to Eden with the plant." 

"Is there anything else important?" his commander asked. 

Aziraphale chewed on his lip and glanced at Crowley. He didn't want to think of what would happen to the demon if the rest of his squadron discovered him.

"No, sir," he lied. 

"Good. Your ship should arrive in a week. In the meantime, rejoin your squadron and await the arrival. God bless." 

With a crackle, the call ended, and Aziraphale exhaled heavily. He knelt by Crowley's unconscious form. 

"I don't hate you, Crowley," he whispered. 

"But there are powers greater than your and my understanding, and I can't disobey. You understand that, don't you?"

Crowley, in his deep sleep, didn't respond. 

"I'm sure you'd do the same if it were the other way around," he added. 

He left the grotto, stopping briefly by the bookshelf. The Bibles loomed before him, their pages shouting accusations. The angel felt unworthy of even a misprinted book of miracles. 

"Goodbye," Aziraphale muttered bitterly, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

Crowley felt like he had a hangover, which didn't make sense since he hadn't drunken anything- alcoholic or otherwise- in the past couple centuries. His vision was blurred and he had a splitting headache. The cavern seemed to spin around him.   
He tried to remember what happened. He had been talking to Aziraphale…..  
 _Aziraphale!_

Crowley scrambled to his feet, and nearly fell again. 

"Aziraphale!" he called out, flicking his tongue out desperately. 

The cavern was empty. 

He rushed to check on his plant. Despair filled his mind. It, too, was gone. 

"Aziraphale!" Crowley cried again, choking on his words. 

He tasted Aziraphale's scent in the air. The angel hadn't gone far, he discovered.   
Crowley wiped away his tears. He didn't want to believe that Aziraphale would betray him, but as his memory became clearer, he realized what he had done. Aziraphale stole his plant. 

"Serves me right trusting an angel," he muttered.

He put on his bright yellow jacket- the jacket Freddie Mercury had worn- and put on his toughest face. The plant, and the fate of the planet, was wherever Aziraphale was. Crowley tasted the air again, picking up a scent trail. He could feel the anger churning inside himself as he followed the tracks. He felt so stupid for trusting him so quickly. 

A hiss escaped from his throat. 

"Bastard," he growled under his breath.

He hated that it hurt. In truth, he had come to consider Aziraphale a friend in the short amount of time he had known him. Maybe he was just desperate, so deep in his loneliness that he thought an angel would ever want to be his friend. 

Aziraphale was dithering. He was waiting at the checkpoint to meet up with his squadron. Nanael, Zuriel, and Cerviel still hadn't arrived, although he supposed they may have not yet received the message to return. The sun burned through the smog, giving the area a reddish hue, and only reminding him of his guilt. He just wanted it to be over with. He’d join his team members, return to Eden, and never have to think about it again.

“Aziraphale!” someone shouted angrily. 

Crowley was stalking toward him, his vibrant purple wings twitching in fury. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Crowley, I can explain,” he began slowly, putting up his arms in defense. 

“Oh, you better, angel,” Crowley growled, glaring at him.

He didn’t attack, but rather stood across from him with his hands on his hips and hateful expression on his face. Aziraphale was relieved at that- he knew Crowley wouldn’t have stood a chance if they sparred. 

“I’m listening,” the demon said impatiently. 

“Crowley, there are things you wouldn’t- couldn’t understand-” Aziraphale tried explaining. 

“Where is my plant?” Crowley interrupted.

Aziraphale took a step back, and put his hand over his belt. 

“I can’t let you have it, Crowley,” he said calmly. 

“That’s not for you to decide!” Crowley shouted.

“It might be the only plant on this entire planet! You can’t take it!”

“Crowley, I know this is difficult for you to-”

“You think this is about me?! This is about the Earth, for someone’s sake! I’m trying to keep it alive!” 

“Crowley-”

“What are you going to do with it? Kill it? Shred it?” Crowley demanded. 

“I’m taking it back to Eden, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied slowly. 

“What do they need a tiny plant for? It belongs here!" 

"It's not my place to understand the plan," Aziraphale murmured testily.

Crowley gasped. 

"You don't know!" he exclaimed. 

"Of course I-"

"You actually don't know!" 

Aziraphale frowned at him. 

"And I suppose you expect I should have questioned them?" he asked dryly. 

"What's the point otherwise, if you don't even know why you're doing it?" Crowley retorted with a huff. 

"Because I'm an _angel_ , Crowley. I'm a messenger of God, not an equal." 

"Well that's-"

Electricity coursed through him and he crumpled to the ground with a groan. Behind him stood the angel Cerviel with an angelic taser and a smug look on his face. 

"Filthy demon," Cerviel muttered as Crowley writhed on the ground. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, turning to Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale tried to maintain his composure. 

"I had the situation under control, Cerviel," he replied. 

Nanael and Zuriel joined them, and looked at disgust at Crowley, who had passed out from the shock. 

"I didn't think there'd be any left," Zuriel remarked. 

"Can't kill all of 'em. Like cockroaches, I tell you," Cerviel chuckled. 

"What are we going to do with it?" Nanael asked quietly. 

"We can't leave him like this!" Aziraphale cried, a little too emotionally. 

Cerviel glanced at the transport ship.

"Well, Haniel is expecting us, so we can't just wait around," he said. 

"I have to agree with Aziraphale," Nanael interjected.

"Somehow this demon survived for this long. We'd be wasting an opportunity if we don't at least study it." 

"What? So you want to bring it with us?" Cerviel asked dubiously.

"It would be best, yes," Nanael answered.

"What would you do with him?" Aziraphale asked anxiously. 

"Study it, of course. You know I can't resist a new discovery," she replied. 

"He'd have to be alive," Aziraphale said firmly. 

"Of course. I have no need for a dead demon," Nanael told him with a smile. 

Cerviel rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you two nerds don't stop talking, we'll be late and you'll have Haniel to deal with." 

"Alright, let's go," Nanael sighed.

"Aziraphale, help me carry the demon inside?" she asked. 

"Of course!" Aziraphale said a little too enthusiastically.

He was glad Crowley would be with him. At least this way he could make sure he'd be alright. It wasn't ideal, but Aziraphale knew Nanael would be gentle. She was a scientist, not a brute like other angels he knew. Maybe one day Crowley would forgive him. Besides, he doubted Earth in its current state was a suitable living condition. It was for the best, he kept telling himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Crowley woke up in a strange room, and panic immediately set in. He was in a clean but sparse bed, and aside from the bed, the room was completely bare. There was also what looked like a mirror on the wall, but Crowley had been in enough interrogation rooms in the old days to know that it wasn't a normal mirror at all. His tongue flicked out anxiously.  
He also noticed that the temperature in the room was significantly cooler than what he was comfortable with, and the chill made him sluggish. His brain felt fuzzy, and he was very, very tired. The scales that had scattered his skin were cracked and dull. 

The door opened, and a smartly dressed angel walked in carrying a tray of something. Crowley instinctively backed to the furthest corner of the room and hissed at her, coiling his body to make himself as small as possible. 

"There's no need to be afraid, demon," the angel said gently, placing the tray in front of him. 

Crowley recoiled in disgust when he saw that it was a tray of rats. 

"What is _that_?" 

"Why, it's your food. You are reptilian, are you not?" the angel replied. 

Crowley wrinkled his nose.

"I haven't eaten in centuriesss, and besidesss, I'm a demon, not a common lizard," he hissed indignantly. 

"Oh," she said apologetically.

"I don't really know much about demons, I'm afraid. I know you don't need to eat, but I thought it might be helpful to-"

"Where am I?" Crowley asked suddenly. 

"You're in the Scientific Research wing of the mothership Eden. You're in good hands, demon, don't you worry." 

Crowley stared intently at her. 

"I have a name, you know," he muttered. 

"Oh, of course. What is it?"

"Tell me yours first," Crowley replied. 

The angel smiled- not unkindly, but it still made Crowley uncomfortable. It was the kind of smile one gave to a child, or a puppy- a patronizing kind of smile. 

"I'm Nanael of the research division, specialist in science and philosophy," she told him. 

"Philosophy?" Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, philosophy is more a hobby," Nanael admitted. 

She looked at him, waiting for his response. 

"I'm Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley," he finally mumbled. 

"Anthony?" Nanael chuckled, "that's a rather human name for a demon, isn't it?"

"I chose it myself," Crowley growled. 

Nanael blinked. 

"You're a strange fellow, aren't you?" she remarked. 

"What do you want from me?" Crowley asked tiredly, shrinking away from her gaze. 

"I'm a researcher, Crowley. You're a very special demon, do you know that?" 

Nanael spoke to him with that slow speech reserved only for babies. It infuriated Crowley. 

"Where's the plant?" Crowley asked.

"What plant?"

"The one _your_ lot stole from me. And from Earth. It has to go back!" 

Nanael smiled at him with a look that said 'oh, you naive boy. You just simply don't understand.'

"The Earth can heal, the plant is proof! But you took it! And-"

He stopped, as he realized how much more dire the situation was. 

"I was the only demon left. I was the only one keeping the Earth from dying completely, and now….. the humans will never return."

"Oh, Crowley," Nanael sighed.

"Surely by now you realize that the Earth was a lost cause." 

"But the humans belong to the Earth! There _is no_ second planet, an angel of all beings should know that. You can't expect them to float in space forever. It's not….. natural!" Crowley cried, waving his hands wildly. 

"I'm sure you've had quite the long day, Crowley," Nanael said simply. 

"You're just…. tired I'm sure. I know it's too much for you to comprehend." 

Crowley opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it. It was pointless. He knew from experience that narrow-minded people just don't listen.

"Just leave me alone," he muttered. 

"I must say, Aziraphale, that demon certainly is a piece of work," Nanael remarked a few days later. 

"Oh, is he?" Aziraphale replied as nonchalantly as he could.

"I can't figure out what makes him so attached to that planet, and the humans. Possibly because he needs souls to tempt, but I can't imagine him being so desperate to the point of delusion," she continued. 

"Maybe he just cares about them," Aziraphale said quietly. 

"Cares? Don't be ridiculous, Aziraphale," Cerviel scoffed. 

"I don't see what's the point in keeping it here, Nanael," Zuriel commented.

"It isn't very powerful, and all it does is sleep and pace around the cell-"

" _Habitat_ ," Nanael corrected. 

"I hate to agree with Zuriel, Nanael, but he's right. It _is_ a cell," Aziraphale sighed. 

"He's closest in species to a snake, snakes like bare spaces. They're simple creatures, you know," Nanael explained with exasperation. 

"Actually he's closest to an angel, but who's keeping score?" Aziraphale muttered sarcastically. 

"And I suppose you're an expert on demons now, aren't you?" Cerviel sneered. 

"He likes plants," Aziraphale added under his breath. 

"I'll keep that in mind," Nanael replied. 

Aziraphale shook his head tiredly and headed for the door. 

He looked out to the main atrium, where the humans were milling about in the artificial garden. Aziraphale had always wanted the best for them, even from the very beginning. When Adam and Eve were banished from the original garden, Aziraphale gave them his flaming sword so they could protect themselves. He always wondered if he had done the wrong thing. All he ever wanted was to do the right thing, but since the beginning, he had his doubts.   
War had given back his sword when the world began to end all those centuries ago. 

"You're going to need this more than I do," she had said before disintegrating. 

Aziraphale ran his hand through his white curls and let out a long sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

Anyone who has ever tried to keep a snake is aware of one universal truth- snakes are master escape artists. Snakes are clever, and fast, and flexible, and that is why it is quite difficult to keep a snake somewhere it doesn't want to be. Crowley, being more snake than human, at least in terms of biology, thus adheres to this truth. It would only be a matter of time before he managed to escape. 

Crowley was sitting in his cell, staring at the blank wall. Nanael had filled the room with artificial plants, something Crowley found highly offensive. Did she really think he was stupid enough to think they were real? It was as if she thought he could be sated with cheap imitations, like a child. Humiliating.  
He looked up to the ceiling. There was a small air duct in the corner for ventilation. It was about as wide as his hand…..if he was in his human form. 

Crowley hadn't used his serpent form in ages. In fact, if he had a say in the matter, he'd likely never use his serpent form. As a snake, he was far more vulnerable. He always worried he'd forget to change back. Most of the time, it was like a muscle he could control, although there were times he couldn't control it. But, for the past few centuries, there hadn't been any stressers to trigger his turning into his snake form. It had been mundane- calm, almost.   
Now, he realized he had to do it again. If he wanted to escape, he would have to transform back into the form he hated. 

"Nothing wrong with being a snake," he muttered, trying to concentrate and convince himself to relax. 

Scales rippled across his skin as his body shrank and morphed. He turned into a small red-phase snake with keeled scales and an upturned nose- a taxonomist would call him a Hognose. Crowley would say it was a cruel name. 

It was harder to think clearly as a snake. He had to contend with all the sensory input that came from being a tiny snake in a huge world, and he also couldn't communicate properly.   
With a nervous flick of his tongue, he began to climb the faux plant closest to the vent. He wasn't arbourial, but he could climb short heights if he needed to. He reached the vent, and squeezed through into the duct and out of the room. 

The air ducts were narrow and cold, and Crowley slowly slithered down the metal tubes. It was dark, but all demons could see in the dark, so it wasn't a problem for him. Eventually, he found another vent, and after checking if anyone was around, he crawled out into the next room. 

He looked around. He seemed to be a sort of artificial garden- a less-observant might think it was genuine, but Crowley could smell the plastic all around him. 

_Just focus on changing back,_ he thought. 

Of course it was all easier said than done, especially since he was supposed to lose his legs- not regain them. With great strain, he managed to force himself to turn into his human form.   
He wobbled a bit on his feet. 

"You're a strange-looking angel," someone said from behind him.

Crowley whirled around. There was a person, no, a _human_ wearing white robes and staring at him.   
He hadn't seen humans in millennia. It was a bit of an emotional moment, if he was to be honest. 

"Hello," he said quietly.

The human approached him curiously. 

"Are you new?" she asked, "I've never seen you before." 

"Um, yeah, I'm new," Crowley mumbled. 

"Why are your wings so small?" she continued, looking him over. 

Crowley hadn't realized he had forgotten to winch his wings. 

"Err, well, they just are, I s'ppose," he stammered. 

He couldn't exactly explain that he used to have four other wings. Then he'd have to explain that he wasn't actually an angel, and that brought a whole new set of problems. Who knew what things the humans were told about demons?

"You're awfully curious," he remarked slowly.

"I'm a human," she chuckled.

"Unlike angels, I'm _allowed_ to ask questions." 

Crowley couldn't help himself, and smiled. He had to admire humans for their audacity. Oh, how he had missed them. 

"What's your name?" he asked. 

"Ada. And you are?" 

"Anthony J Crowley," he replied softly. 

"That's a mouthful," Ada quipped.

"Can I just call you AJ?" 

"Um, sure," Crowley answered uneasily.

"Are all you humans this bold?" 

"Not really. Most people are pretty boring, honestly, all doing the same thing in the main Atrium." 

Crowley's mouth curled into an impressed grin. Some things never change, he noted proudly. 

"THERE HAS BEEN A BREACH IN SECTOR 6, ALL PRINCIPALITIES AND CHERUBIM REPORT FOR DUTY," a voice boomed from an unknown speaker. 

Crowley gulped nervously.

"Listen, um, Ada, it was great talking to you, but I have to go," he said quickly. 

He winched his wings and dashed out of the room. His heart was pounding erratically against his chest. It was only a matter of time before all the legions of Heaven would find him. 

Crowley found himself in a massive garden- all fake, obviously. There were hundreds of humans mingling about among the plastic trees and shrubs. They were all wearing identical white robes, and were engaged in obedient devotion- moving as if they were clockwork and not independent beings. It was surreal, and slightly terrifying. The humans didn't seem to notice him, in fact, they didn't seem to notice anything. Most of them were praying. It all seemed wrong- like someone had stolen all the personality from them. It made Crowley sick, or at least very disturbed. Something terrible had happened to the humans he had known and loved.

He pushed further into the crowd, letting himself be swept up by the humans. Hopefully he could blend in and evade capture.   
He changed into the white robes after finding some lying around untouched. It wasn't a perfect disguise- he still had patches of stray scales, and of course he had his sickly grey skin, but it was better than still wearing his bright yellow jacket for all to see. He really regretted leaving his sunglasses in his grotto. His serpentine eyes were a dead giveaway on their own that he was something not human. 

He'd just have to keep his head down.


	9. Chapter 9

"THERE HAS BEEN A BREACH IN SECTOR 6. ALL PRINCIPALITIES AND CHERUBIM REPORT FOR DUTY," the voice of the Host blared through the halls. 

Aziraphale's ears perked up. There was a tiny hope in his mind that Crowley had escaped, although he wasn't sure why he wanted him to escape. Surely Crowley would be safer if he stayed put, logically at least. Aziraphale wondered if angels could malfunction.

"What happened?" he asked as he joined his squadron. 

"Crowley escaped," Nanael replied anxiously.

Zuriel snorted and rolled his eyes. 

"A demon actually escaped? Big surprise there," Cerviel commented wryly. 

"How did he escape?" 

"He must have shapeshifted. I didn't think he'd be able to do that," Nanael muttered. 

She looked utterly ashamed and worried.

"Great," Cerviel groaned, "now we'll have to chase a creature without even knowing what it looks like." 

"Ssh. He's coming," Zuriel hissed as their commander approached them. 

Haniel, Their commander, stood imposingly before them, a deep frown etched on his face.

"I'm sure Nanael already informed you of what happened," he said grimly. 

They all nodded slowly. 

"It is of utmost importance that we find this demon. We cannot have it loose in Eden. Netzach has already deployed her troops, and the Cherubim have assembled." 

Zuriel raised his hand.

"What do we do, sir, when we _do_ find it?" he asked. 

"It's already proved that it can't be contained, and we can't keep it alive. You will find it- and eliminate it," Haniel answered, nodding to the sword at his side. 

"No!" Aziraphale and Nanael cried simultaneously. 

"He's harmless, and I still haven't finished studying him," Nanael said frantically as Aziraphale bobbed his head up and down in agreement. 

"He's a demon," Haniel sneered. 

"He's a Fallen Angel, you two, and the Serpent of Eden at that. Imagine how many souls he's responsible for corrupting. You call _that_ harmless?!"

He turned to Aziraphale, who stiffened under his calculating gaze. 

"Don't let me think you've gone soft," he said. 

"Yes, sir," Aziraphale responded, glaring at him with his swirling eyes. 

He missed his days on Earth as a field agent, when he mostly had to deal with paperwork. Occasionally he'd get a Stern talking-to, but for the most part he was left alone. Ever since the End, he had to join the infantry, and submit to his demanding and brutish commanders.

"Excellent," Haniel smiled. 

"Aziraphale and Nanael will join the other Principalities in combing the main Garden, while Zuriel and Cerviel will join the Cherubim as arial backup. We _will_ find this demon, mark my words. God be with you." 

They all nodded, and set out to do their duties. 

Aziraphale and Nanael decided it would be best if they split up. There were already quite a few other angels in the main Garden, searching among the trees and shrubbery. Aziraphale knew they wouldn't find Crowley there- from the little he knew about him, he knew he was smart. 

He walked to the East wing of the Garden, to the lift that led up to the Control Room. From afar, it looked as if a human had strayed away from the group. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. 

"Crowley!" he whispered urgently as he approached the person. 

Crowley had been trying to figure out the code to open the sliding doors to the lift. When he heard Aziraphale, he flinched, but didn't turn around. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale repeated, touching his shoulder. 

"Don't try and stop me, angel. It won't end well," Crowley murmured darkly. 

"For _you_ ," Aziraphale responded simply. 

Crowley still didn't look at him, and focused on the panel of brightly lit keys and buttons. But Aziraphale could see his grimace. 

"Is that a threat?" he hissed. 

"Depends," said Aziraphale. 

Crowley didn't reply. 

"I really am sorry, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, wringing his hands.

"Don't apologise, angel. You were only doing your job. Do you expect a soldier to apologize to the faceless enemy?" 

Aziraphale gaped at Crowley's response. He really had been trying to make amends. 

Before he could respond, a Cherub approached them. Crowley dove behind the panel. Aziraphale straightened his uniform and saluted. 

"Principality!" the Cherub greeted. 

"Any sign of the demon?"

Aziraphale stood, rooted to his spot. He looked ahead impassively. 

"No, no sign at all," he lied. 

"Well, keep working then," the Cherub said, and took off. 

When the coast was clear, Aziraphale turned to Crowley's hiding spot and held out his hand to him. Crowley looked up at him in disbelief. His mouth hung open and his yellow eyes were wide.

"You're welcome," Aziraphale prompted him expectantly. 

Crowley sucked in his breath. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, getting up on his own. 

He turned to the control panel and entered in a code. The doors of the lift slid open, and Crowley smiled triumphantly. Aziraphale gasped. 

"How did you know the code? Even I don't know the code!" he exclaimed. 

"Raphael programmed this, didn't he?" Crowley smirked.

"He might have. Personally I try to stay away from the archange-"

"I used to work for him," Crowley continued, "he used the same passcodes for everything back in the day, and whaddya know, it hasn't changed at all." 

He sauntered into the lift, walking just a bit more proudly. Aziraphale looked back, then looked at him, then looked back again. And then he joined him in the lift. Crowley didn't object.

"What are you planning to do when you reach the Control Room?" Aziraphale asked slowly as the doors closed behind them. 

"I'm going to find the Archangels, find the plant, and fix this mess," Crowley said resolutely. 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and gave a sideways glance. 

"That's not much of a plan," he remarked dubiously. 

"Well, you just stepped into a lift with a fugitive demon, how's that for a plan?" Crowley shot back. 

"Touché." 

They stood in silence as the lift took them up to the highest point in Eden.

"They'll be waiting for you," Aziraphale said, breaking the silence.

"I'm aware." 

"You don't have a weapon," he added. 

"You do."

Aziraphale looked down. 

"I do," he nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

Gabriel, Raphael, Michael, and Uriel stood in front of the doors to the lift. They had been alerted to Crowley's presence, and were waiting for him and Aziraphale to reach them. 

"Do you think he took…. what's his name? That Principality-" Michael began, struggling to remember.

"Aziraphale?" Gabriel offered. 

"Yeah. Do you think the demon took him hostage?"

"Must have," nodded Raphael. 

"I told you we should have already disposed of the plant," Gabriel muttered, turning his sword in his hand. 

"We _were_ supposed to return to Earth if a plant was found, though" Uriel pointed out. 

"Yeah, but do you really think that's a good idea?" Gabriel snapped. 

"It's bad enough that God won't talk to us," Michael added. 

The doors began to open, and the Archangels drew their swords.

"Oh, hello," said Aziraphale, standing alone in the lift. 

He smiled politely at them, and held his hands firmly clasped in front of him.   
The Archangels looked at him quizzically. 

"Where is the demon?" Raphael asked. 

"Demon? Here?" Aziraphale repeated, with a look of surprise. 

Gabriel frowned. 

" _The_ demon! Where is it?!" he shouted, his left eye twitching in anger. 

"Well, not here," Aziraphale replied, looking around as if searching for him. 

"We _know_ that!" Gabriel exclaimed, growing increasingly frustrated. 

As the Archangels and Aziraphale spoke, no one noticed a tiny snake slither his way across the control room. He flicked his tongue, trying to find his way to the plant. It was close, he could feel it.   
Slowly, slowly, he made his way to the plant. He could hear Aziraphale stalling. 

Aziraphale could see Crowley approach the plant from the corner of his eye. As soon as Crowley had the plant, they could get out of there. 

"Aziraphale," Gabriel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with exasperation. 

"You're telling me you have no idea where the demon is?" 

"I haven't seen him since we brought him here," Aziraphale replied. 

"So why are you here?"

"Ah, well, you see, I was wondering if when I do find this demon, if I should use my sword in it's true form or not," he said, waving his sword precariously in front of him. 

"Watch where you wave that!" Uriel cried as he ducked out of the way.   
"What?" Aziraphale asked, as if he hadn't heard him. 

He swung his sword again, narrowly missing Raphael's head. 

"Be careful!" Michael shouted. 

Crowley reached the plant, and wrapped his coils around it. Aziraphale smiled.   
He lowered his sword, and turned to the Archangels. 

"I must apologise, honourable Archangels. I'm afraid I've been taking your time," he said. 

"Indeed," Michael frowned. 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, and gave him the signal to transform. The Archangels followed his gaze. 

"The demon!" Gabriel gasped. 

Crowley flinched. 

'Come on,' he told himself, trying to focus on turning back.

'Come on, Crowley, you've got this.' 

It wasn't working. That part of him that was human just wouldn't listen. 

"It's a lot smaller than I expected," Michael remarked. 

Gabriel walked closer to Crowley, and Aziraphale's heart pounded. 

'What are you doing, Crowley? They're coming for you,' he screamed internally. 

Gabriel tentatively pried Crowley off of the plant, and Aziraphale winced. 

"This is the demon that's been causing all the trouble?" the Archangel exclaimed. 

Crowley squirmed in his grasp, and Aziraphale could see the fear in his tiny eyes. 

Michael smirked. 

"Quite anticlimactic," he chuckled. 

Crowley let out a loud hiss of defense, but the Archangels only laughed more. 

"Let go of him!" Aziraphale said quickly. 

"Why?" Gabriel scoffed. 

"Because I'll- I'll-"

Aziraphale ran to the control panel, and pressed the button that would contact God. A bright light descended from on high, and a voice began to speak. 

"We are the Metatron," it said. 

The Archangels froze, and gaped. 

"I'd like to speak to a Higher Authority," Aziraphale said boldly. 

"We _are_ the Higher Authority," the Metatron replied. 

"I meant God," Aziraphale clarified. 

"We are the Voice of God" 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

"And the best you'll get, pal," the Metatron added in a slightly less ethereal voice. 

Aziraphale sighed, and, resigned, held up the plant. 

"We have proof that Earth is habitable, your Grace," he announced. 

Crowley wriggled out of Gabriel's grasp. 

The Metatron let out a sound that might have been a laugh. 

" _That's_ your proof?!" 

Now the light that embodied the Metatron gathered into the form of a smug young man. He snatched the plant out of Aziraphale's hands and held it for scrutiny. 

"It's pathetic," he sniffed. 

"It's young, but it'll grow," Aziraphale said confidently. 

Now the Metatron noticed Crowley, who had been inching his way towards Aziraphale. 

"What an adorable serpent," he commented, crouching to look at him. 

He gave him a steely gaze and Crowley transformed into his human form, and lay prone on the floor. The demon shuddered. 

The Metatron gripped his arm harshly and yanked him to his feet. 

"Why do you care so much?" he whispered. 

Crowley glared at him. 

"It's sad, really," the Metatron shrugged, and looked at the plant in his other hand. 

It burst into flame. 

"No!" Crowley shouted, as tears sprung to his eyes.

The Metatron pushed him to the ground and blew the ash that was formally the plant of his palm. He wiped his hands on his suit and put on a face of cold impassivity. 

"Dispose of it," he ordered, and ascended into the light. 

Uriel and Raphael grabbed Aziraphale and held his hands behind his back, while Gabriel and Michael dragged Crowley away.


	11. Chapter 11

Aziraphale glared at any angel who passed him as he was marched to the brig. He held his head up defiantly, refusing to let them see his fear. He wouldn't give them the pleasure of gloating.  
A human approached them when they walked past the main Garden. 

"What's going on?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Shouldn't you be with the other humans?" Uriel replied with annoyance. 

"I'm taking a breather," she shrugged, and Aziraphale had to admire her defiance.

"Right," muttered Raphael. 

The human looked at Aziraphale.

"Is he in trouble?" she asked. 

Raphael nodded gravely. 

"Don't concern yourself with Higher matters," he advised her. 

The human gave the Archangel a long look, and Aziraphale wondered what she was thinking.

"Alright, then," she said quickly, and walked away. 

When they reached the brig, Aziraphale's eyes widened in horror as he saw a sign that said 'solitary confinement.'

"You can't do this!" he cried as Raphael began to open the many locks on the thick steel door. 

"It's mercy, Aziraphale. Hopefully this all a fluke- lower angels are more easily swayed by licentious demons. When you're free from temptation, you can think about the gravity of your sin and work towards repentance," Raphael explained. 

"What about Crowley? What are you doing with him?" 

Uriel frowned. 

"The demon will be taken care of. We're sending a convoy to the dying planet, and depositing him there. If he loves it so much, he can stay there- forever," he said darkly. 

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale croaked. 

"We're going to do what we should have done before the humans beat us to it- we're going to completely destroy the planet." 

"No!" 

Raphael opened the door, and pushed Aziraphale into the cell. 

"It's sad, really, when an angel gets corrupted," he remarked, shaking his head. 

"The only ones corrupted are you!" Aziraphale shouted, but they had already slammed the door. 

Crowley sat quietly in the small convoy. He followed the movements of the angelic guards with his bright eyes, anxious and suspicious. He was terrified.

The convoy landed on the dusty Earth, and Crowley knew he should probably be glad to be back. But he couldn't feel any joy as he was shoved out of the convoy and onto the hard ground. His face ached when he made impact on the cracked earth. Blood dripped from his broken nose.   
He watched the convoy lift off as tears began to fall. They landed on the dry ground, evaporating immediately from the heat. 

Iridescent deep violet wings entered the physical plane, trembling with sadness. Crowley sank to his knees and wrapped his wings around himself. Wretched sobs escaped his throat, and he was utterly hopeless. The ground was soon wet with tears, and dust swirled and swirled all around him. 

Aziraphale reckoned it must have been at most a few hours since he had been imprisoned, but it felt like an eternity. He was anxious- awfully worried about Crowley. 

"Oh, I've been terrible," he muttered.

Indeed, he felt remorse for his actions- only not the actions Heaven wanted him to feel remorse for. He regretted ever having trusting Heaven, or cooperating at all. For decades, centuries, millennia he had been complicent, standing on the sidelines as others chose his fate. Now, everything he ever truly cared about would be destroyed. 

The door to his cell began to creak open, and Aziraphale immediately calibrated himself into a defensive position. Who knew what they would do next? His sword had been confiscated, but he still had his fists and his massive wings. And his persistence. 

When the door opened, instead of an Archangel or Cherub or Seraph, or any member of the Host, there stood a human. The human that had questioned the Archangels, in fact. She smiled resolutely at him. 

"You're the Principality, Aziraphale?" she said. 

He nodded, relaxing his stance. 

"I'm Ada. I met your demon friend, and I'm here to rescue you," the human informed him. 

"You met Crowley?!" Aziraphale exclaimed.

"Well, I didn't know he was a demon, then. Saw what looked like a strange angel sneaking around, then I heard there was a demon on the loose, so I put two and two together. I'd only read about demons, you know." 

"Why are you rescuing me?" 

Ada laughed at Aziraphale's question. 

"You think all humans are mindless worshippers of Heaven? We do have Free Will, even if _They_ want to suppress it," she replied. 

"It wasn't always this way, Ada," Aziraphale said softly. 

"You humans have created wonderful things on Earth. If only you could have seen the world at its height- it was magnificent." 

"What happened, then?" 

Aziraphale looked away. 

"Humans have the power to create- and destroy," he murmured. 

"You became selfish, and greedy, and worked the planet to extinction. I watched it happen over the centuries, forbidden from interfering. I watched as the air became greyer, and the trees withered, and the fish drowned, and the world burned." 

He looked up to see what Ada's reaction would be. 

"We were told it was Hell," she mumbled.

"Some of the world's greatest tragedies occur because of the apathy of believing you're not the one responsible," Aziraphale said somberly. 

"Or thinking it couldn't happen to you," Ada added. 

They both nodded sadly. 

"Well, I suppose we'd better save the planet, then," she finally said with the hope Aziraphale had recognized in countless humans over history. 

"How?" asked Aziraphale. 

"If I know one thing about humans, Aziraphale, it's that we're good at revolting. I've read enough about our history to learn that," she explained with a wink. 

Something stirred in Aziraphale's chest as he realized that it wasn't over yet. 

"They're going to destroy the planet for good," he reminded her. 

"Then we'll have to stop them before they do," Ada grinned.


	12. Chapter 12

Ada stood on top of a rock- plastic, of course- and cleared her throat. The rest of the humans were oblivious, engaged in silent worship and study. She clenched her fists, readying herself. 

"People!" she announced loudly. 

Aziraphale watched nervously from behind a tree. The humans raised their heads.

"There is a grave blight in this garden," Ada continued in a solemn tone. 

"The angels- from the simplest Guardians to the mighty Seraphim- the angels who watch you, tend to you, _control_ you- they are engaged in a conspiracy." 

"What is she doing?!" a guard hissed in alarm. 

"You may not know a life other than this one, but this is not the life we're meant to have. We're humans! Descendents of the original Adam, formed from dust and returned to dust- and none of us have ever even touched dust!" 

The Archangels approached the commotion, swords drawn. 

"Not yet," said Michael, narrowing his eyes. 

"We don't want to cause a riot." 

"We were created to inherit and protect and cultivate the Earth, not drift away among the stars, ungrounded," Ada spoke, and more people began to nod in agreement. 

"We were supposed to return to the Earth, not abandon it. And they-" she pointed to the Archangels, "want to destroy it!" 

There was a collective gasp rippling in the crowd. Some began to speak amongst themselves, their voices rising and falling in anger. Gabriel marched forward. 

"You stupid girl," he sneered. 

"We've done all this to protect you. It's the only way you'll survive," he said, addressing the crowd. 

Ada stuck out her chin defiantly. 

"We don't want to survive- we want to live," she said. 

Gabriel clenched his fist and glared at her, stalking closer, threateningly. Fearing violence, Aziraphale ran forward. 

"Don't touch her!" he shouted, placing himself between them. 

Gabriel snarled, but didn't move. 

"We want to go back home!" cried a human from the crowd. 

"You can't!" protested Raphael.

"The Earth is dead." 

"Then let us heal it, _Raphael_ ," Aziraphale replied. 

He could see Haniel shaking his head at him in disappointment. Aziraphale didn't care. 

"Take over the ship!" Ada yelled to a booming echo of hundreds of human voices. 

"You're just humans," Michael sneered. 

"Who are you against all of us?" 

"Not _just_ humans," Aziraphale reminded him. 

"They're capable of so much more than you could ever imagine."

He paused, and gave the Archangel a defiant wink. 

"And they also have me," he added. 

Nanael shuffled into view, and nervously raised her hand. She had always been fascinated by humans, and Earth, and all living things. Privately, she also had her own questions, but never dared to voice them. 

"They also have me," she said boldly. 

Aziraphale smiled gratefully at her, and from the fringes and shadows, a trickling of disillusioned angels of all ranks stepped forward. 

"I stand with the humans," said an Ophan, who had always held a soft spot for the natural world. 

"I stand for Earth," said a Cherub, who had never really liked to fight. 

"So do I"

"Me too"

"For humanity!" 

"We're angels, merely messengers," Aziraphale said. 

"Our duty isn't to decide the will of God- _or_ the people." 

Faced with an immovable force of humans and allies, the remaining angels backed away slowly. They had grown so used to their superiority that they could not fathom that perhaps, just maybe, maybe they were wrong. 

"You'll regret this," said Michael. 

"You'll all die on that decaying planet." 

"That's for us to decide," Ada replied. 

The remaining angels spread their wings and vanished in a ripple of light, sending a shockwave of screaming sound to ring in everyone's ears. 

"Are they gone?" asked Ada when the noise cleared. 

"For now," answered Aziraphale. 

"Come on," he said, heading for the control room.

"Let's go home." 

The Earth was silent when Eden finally landed. There was no one there to greet them, no one to cheer and welcome them home. 

"This is Earth?" Ada asked fearfully as they tentatively left the vessel.

It didn't look like the Earth she had imagined- of course she knew it would be a ramshackle mess- but she didn't think it would be that bad. Her eyes had already begun to water, either from sadness or the smog.

"Unfortunately," sighed Aziraphale. 

"It's not over yet," he told the crowd. 

"We have to find another plant, and cultivate it. If we do this together, we can make Earth habitable again. It won't be the same as it once was, but that is a reality of time. Just because it's different doesn't mean it's bad." 

They crowd split into groups, each led by an angel. They spread out across the land, scouring the Earth for a hint of green- a plant- a sign of life. 

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was on his own search mission. 

"Crowley!" he called out, walking among the stacks of rubbish.

He knew Crowley was somewhere on Earth, but the Earth was big, and he had no idea where to start. Days passed, and he still found no sign of the demon. He was beginning to grow hopeless. 

"Aziraphale!" shouted Nanael breathlessly over his communicator. 

"Yes?"

"Come here, now," she said urgently, and sent him her coordinates. 

He opened his wings and took off into the polluted skies. 

"What is it?" he asked when he landed, nearly stumbling over his feet. 

"Look," Nanael whispered, leading him to a clearing. 

Bright green grass stood out against the grey landscape. Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat as he walked closer to the oasis. 

He reached the grass and looked down. In the middle of the greenery lay the coiled form of a very small snake. It was unmoving, with dulled scales and cracked skin. Aziraphale carefully picked up the snake and held it gently. 

"Oh, Crowley," he murmured lovingly. 

The snake stirred, and recoiled, hissing loudly at him in defence. Aziraphale gently touched his head, to which the snake bluff-struck and hissed loudly. 

"Crowley, it's me," Aziraphale whispered desperately. 

The snake stared at him with unblinking, unrecognizing eyes. 

"I know you're in there, my dear," Aziraphale said softly. 

He ran a gentle hand over his scales, and the snake twitched and eyed him suspiciously.

"You just need a little time and coaxing to remember."


	13. Chapter 13

Aziraphale gently stroked the snake's back. It was following his movements warily with its head, lulled by the angel's steady rhythm. He could feel the snake's tiny heartbeat, and could feel him begin to heal. 

Ada approached them worriedly. 

"Is he going to be alright?" she asked with concern. 

Crowley's head shot up at hearing her voice. He flicked out his tongue in an attempt to discern who she was. Aziraphalee could see a glimmer of recognition in his honey eyes. 

"I think so," he replied with a soft smile. 

After a few days of patience and encouragement, eventually Crowley returned to his human form. He was still weak, but he was alive, and he was coherent. Aziraphale had draped a blanket around him. 

"Aziraphale?" he croaked. 

"Welcome back, my dear," Aziraphale said quietly. 

They were in Crowley's grotto, which Aziraphale had figured would be the best place to recuperate. 

Crowley looked around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was in a familiar environment, but something felt different. 

"You're here," he murmured. 

Aziraphale nodded and touched his hand. 

"You think I'd abandon my friend?" 

"Friend?" Crowley repeated. 

Aziraphale looked down guiltily. 

"I know I haven't been the best in terms of earning your trust, my dear, but I hope that with time, you can come to trust me again," he said ernestly. 

"I want to trust you, Aziraphale. I….care about you," Crowley muttered. 

"I care about you, too, Crowley," Aziraphale replied, and squeezed his hand. 

Crowley's eyes widened as he remembered something.

"What about the humans? If you're here-" 

Aziraphale patted his hand soothingly. 

"They're alright, dear. In fact, they're all here," he told him.

"Here? On Earth?" 

"Yes. And they've already begun to rebuild."

"But the plant-"

"They've found more," Aziraphale assured him. 

"And I have no doubt that once it begins to rain again, there will be more to find." 

Crowley wiped away a tear. 

"Sometimes, I didn't think it was possible," he said.

"My dear, were you there for the Flood?" 

Crowley nodded. He remembered it too well. The death, the destruction…..he had cursed the Heavens after that tragedy. 

"Humanity is resilient," Aziraphale continued. 

"They will rebuild, and they will flourish, as they did before." 

They walked out of the cave and looked up. Dark grey clouds had gathered above, and a tendril of lighting splintered the sky. They both flinched, and then smiled as the thunder rolled across the land.   
The sky opened up, and rain began to pour into the parched Earth. In the distance they could hear people cheer. 

Crowley smiled widely as tears mixed with rain trickled down his face. Aziraphale laughed at seeing how ridiculous he looked, with his dark hair now dripping wet and clinging to his cheeks. 

"It's a miracle!" Crowley exclaimed, and grabbed Aziraphale's hand. 

Aziraphale grinned and twirled him around, sending mud splattering onto their clothes. They both giggled carelessly, and continued to dance, swirling amid the rain and mud and life. 

Not too far away, Ada watched the storm from underneath a makeshift shelter. She had never seen rain before, and she stood in awe as she watched the streams of water pour down. Something inside her knew she was witnessing something remarkable. 

"Isn't it incredible?" remarked a voice from behind her. 

Ada turned around. There was another human, seemingly around her age, standing there. She smiled.

"Yes," she replied. 

"I'm Eve, by the way," the other person added, and held out her hand. 

Ada took it. 

"Ada," she responded.

The rain began to diminish, and the clouds began to clear. Crowley and Aziraphale were soaked, elated, and sitting on top of the cave. 

Aziraphale moved a strand of muddy hair from in front of Crowley's eyes. Crowley leaned into his touch. 

"You know," he said, "soon hundreds will become thousands, and thousands will become millions, and millions- billions." 

"Yes, Aziraphale, I know how maths work," Crowley teased. 

"Nanael and the others plan on reestablishing some sort of Heaven, although of course they'll visit."

"And you?" 

"I'm staying on Earth," Aziraphale added quickly, quelling Crowley's fears. 

"Well, I'm staying, too," Crowley murmured. 

Aziraphale put his arm around him, and pulled him closer. 

"Welcome home," he said, eyes brimming with emotion. 

They looked ahead, and could see the sun had begun to shine through slivers in the clouds. A streak of colours cut across the sky in a magnificent arch, and they knew- they had done the right thing.


End file.
